


Conceptualized Storage

by ImmortalCoelacanth



Category: Subnautica (Video Game)
Genre: Alterra just sucks man, Gen, Mentions of false medical diagnosis, Mild angst and drama, Reluctant Friendships, Ryley just wants a nap, Therapy sessions are not the best for poor Ryley
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-11
Updated: 2020-06-11
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:33:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24667660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImmortalCoelacanth/pseuds/ImmortalCoelacanth
Summary: Ryley’s life had been a living hell ever since he had returned from Planet 4546B between his nightmares, PTSD, the shady therapist that had been assigned to him, and the amount of attention Alterra was focusing on him.The voice in his head only made things worse.
Comments: 9
Kudos: 87





	Conceptualized Storage

**Author's Note:**

> Behold, a plot that follows the original plot of Subnautica: Below Zero and not the revamped one! Sorry for any confusion! It follows Ryley going through a rather interesting, and distressing, development.

_Tick._

_Tick._

_Tick._

Ryley Robinson knit his hands together and swallowed anxiously as his therapy session dragged on. His eyes were focused not on the meticulously dressed therapist in front of him but on the mug resting on the table beside her, fixating on how the condensation dripped down the side thanks to the chill that filled the room.

**Ryley Robinson, your heartbeat is increasing dramatically.**

****

His hands clenched tightly as he forced himself to push the voice to the back of his mind, not that it ever worked. He just had to trust in his pills and talk to his therapist about how _every bit of his life was going to hell-_

Trust Alterra? Not on his damn _life!_

**Ryley-**

“Mr. Robinson.” The smooth, cool voice of his therapist cut through the air and the words in his mind, forcing him to focus his attention on her. He looked up into her eyes, not that he could see them due to the dark sunglasses she always wore around him and nodded.

“Y-Yeah?”

She clicked her pen and he winced, despite doing his best not to. “Are you able to be mentally present during this session?”

“I am.”

“Are you _certain?”_

“Mhm.”

He could tell that his short answers were annoying her based on how her brows furrowed, and a part of him _relished_ getting under her skin. A therapist recommended to him by Alterra? Never, she was nothing more than an interrogator who was tasked with seeing what side effects he suffered from after his isolation, and contamination.

His near death and the beings who had helped him survive.

They wanted to drain him of all the knowledge he had, and he suspected that the media attention he received had been the only thing stopping the corporation from dragging him into the shadows and ripping his body apart to see what other secrets it might be hiding.

The bastards, not that he would ever insult them out loud. Too many people watching-

_“Mr. Robinson.”_

She was getting _mad._

Ryley automatically winced again, hating himself all the more. After everything he had been through, the strength and willpower he had developed to survive the hellhole that had been _that_ planet, this was what he was reduced to? A cringing mess who could barely go outside thanks to all the noise.

**Overstimulation is a common response in organic beings that have undergone extensive trauma.**

_Shut it._

“It seems as though you need an increase in dosage.” The false therapist noted, writing something down on her clipboard. Such an archaic thing. Alterra probably wanted everything written down on paper only. Easier to destroy that way.

“Your schizophrenia seems to be worsening.”

_I’m not crazy, I didn’t go crazy out there. You didn’t have to listen to those monsters scream and roar in that **fucked** ocean. You didn’t have to **murder** things to survive, watch their blood stain the water. That place didn’t break me-_

**Ryley, your heartbeat.**

“I’m fine.” Riley bitterly muttered, uncertain as to whether he was addressing his therapist or the voice in his head. “It’s not getting worse-”

“Denial is dangerous, Mr. Robinson.” She smoothly interrupted. “To you and those around you. I am certain you recall why Alterra gave you a more… isolated apartment, yes? The incident you caused?”

_The first time he had heard the voice outside of his dreams. How damn robotic it sounded, lifeless and blunt. How it tried to… **communicate** with him, take over him-_

_His panic attack and the people he had nearly hurt in the process. His roommate and friend…_

**Those circumstances were unfortunate and could have been avoided if you listened to me-**

Ryley’s hands clenched all the tighter, pain radiating through his palms. This was enough to silence the voice, a thing that knew little of physical pain. He recalled the first time he had punched something, breaking his mirror one morning as the voice nagged at him over and over again. The sudden freedom from its harping.

He could control it, he had his own methods, even if they were dangerous. It was better than letting this… _parasite_ in his mind have its way with him.

It had been an accident, really, the event that led to such a thing.

He had been exploring the Architect caches he had encountered during his travels, searching for valuable materials that would aid in him constructing a rocket to escape that damned planet. He had _cured_ himself, had survived every challenge thrown his way and escaped death on multiple occasions, but he had fucked up by interacting with that cache!

Despite knowing how dangerous the alien technology was, he had idiotically interacted with the strange terminal, not noticing how the projected screen was glitching and twitching. His mistake had only become apparent after all the lights went out and he had been painfully shocked by the terminal.

Passing out and waking up, mind and body aching. He did hear the strangely quiet voice within his mind however, he had never paid it any attention, assuming it was another symptom of the insanity he suffered at the hands of the forced isolation of _that planet_.

It was only after he had been saved and handled all the matters relating to his generated debt, that he realized that the voice had stuck around, and grown louder over time. At this realization he had tried to explain what he was suffering through, what the voice was trying to convey, to anyone who would listen.

Not that anyone actually believed his claims that the entity was something separate from himself. When he had first blabbed about all the things going on in his mind, he _knew_ that someone would help him, _had to_ help him. Someone had to believe him, right?!

What an idiot he had been.

There was no help in this damned place, no one to watch his back. Most of his friends had left him after he returned a far different man from what they remembered, and those who had tried to stick around had vanished after his breakdown. His family were the only ones looking out for him and even then, they were part of the reason why he was stuck in these _therapy sessions._

His concerned mother constantly calling someone, updating them on his status and the things he said. She had acted as nothing more than a source of information for Alterra, she had never respected his boundaries, constantly pushing, and told them **_everything._**

His **_loving_** family had backstabbed him, labeled him delusional and thrown him away the second they were able to. It had been weeks since he had last spoken to any of them, and he knew that with this isolation his mind would deteriorate, quickly.

Reminded of the constant quiet and loneliness of _that planet._

Ryley sharply flinched when the bottle of pills was placed on the table in front of him. He wasn’t crazy, he wasn’t crazy-

“Fortunately, I was given an increased dosage before our session if I noticed any deterioration in your condition, Mr. Robinson.” Her bared teeth, a poor excuse for a smile, reminded him of the maw of the Reaper Leviathans he had been forced to face.

Sharp, lips peeled back to expose such deadly weapons. Mandibles snapping shut to seal his fate-

A powerful monster that preyed off the weak and vulnerable, much like Alterra. Could he slay this foe like he had the others? How was he supposed to beat such a powerful, near unstoppable group?

How could he escape this hell he had been forced into?

The faint, mental buzz of the voice returned, though it did not speak. The presence remained silent as it waited for his therapy session to finally draw to a close. As the woman in front of him stood up and smiled at him, a chill running down his spine at the sight, she clicked her pen one more time.

“Take the dosage as recommended in order to improve you condition and hopefully you shall do better next time, Mr. Robinson.” She said as she turned to leave the room. “Your escorts shall be here shortly.”

Yes, _escorts._ Armed guards who took him to and from his sessions. They were supposedly to keep him safe, but he knew the truth.

They kept an eye on him, prevented him from interacting without supervision. Always watching, waiting to see what they would learn from him. He could easily recall the first and only time where he had resisted their presence, freaking out as they forced him to move with them, and his subsequent attack.

A punch to their helmeted face, no damage done, but he would never forget the brutal backhand that had broken one of his teeth and cut his mouth. Alterra paying for the damages, of course.

As the door shut and silence filled the room, aside from the constant ticking of the clock, Ryley knit his hands together, leaned forward, rested his head against them, and sighed. Well, what to do now…

**If I may propose a plan of action-**

“Shut up.” He muttered, voice nearly inaudible. Who knew how many cameras or microphones were covering this office, spying on him and recording what he said. “This is all your fault, anyways.”

**Contact with the terminal was what resulted in this. I did not choose to be transferred, the facility did.**

“That wasn’t _supposed_ to happen!” Ryley bit out, voice growing louder as his anger intensified. “None of the caches I’d been to before did… _that!”_

**They were inactive.**

“Inactive my-”

**Careful, they are listening.**

That shut Ryley up. He cautious looked around, obviously not seeing any sign of recording equipment, and felt his heart begin to race. Fuck, fuck, _fuck-_

The sudden knock on the door caused him to jump out of his chair, and he only grew more panicked when one of the guards stepped inside. He took a step back, knowing they were going to drag him away and chop him up in some lab where he would never see the light of day!

… But that never happened. The guard just gestured for him to leave as usual and, after a moment of hesitation, he made his way out the door. Everything _seemed_ normal, as normal as having an armed escort back to your apartment could get, so perhaps no one had heard him?

Or maybe that were just waiting for him to slip up further, give them more evidence. It was a terrifying thought and throughout the car ride back to his apartment, stuck beside the other armed guard as the first one drove, Ryley could feel sweat soaking his palms as he gripped his pants.

As the bright lights of the city flashed by the tinted windows, he wanted nothing more than freedom. To throw himself out of the car, regardless of whether it was moving, and escape this hell. He would do _anything_ to do something normal, go to a coffee shop or walk in the local park, but he was trapped.

**Ryley Robinson, you are beginning to hyperventilate.**

For a moment he wanted to laugh, he could have sworn that the presence had mentioned having a machine body during one of their rare discussions that did not end in screaming or hitting something. How would it know what hyperventilation was?

**Knowledge is simple to access with the correct means.**

Was… was it _sassing_ him about reading a book?!

He was snapped out of his mental haze, he needed to stop zoning out so much, when they arrived at their destination. He was escorted to the front door of the sleek, clean building that housed Alterra employees, and had to deal with those two standing over him as they got in the elevator made their way up to this floor. After what felt like an eternity of the elevator slowly rising, the tiny space closing in on him, the doors opened, and he was taken to his apartment.

And what a poor excuse of an apartment it was.

A cramped place with hardly enough floorspace for the bed and minuscule kitchen located nearby. There was no living room, no closet, and the only other “room” he had in this place was the bathroom, consisting of a show, a toilet, and a sink.

It was… a livable place, but it was not his. That fact had been made clear when he had been forced to move in and notice how frequently cleaners came by to tidy up any mess he made. He existed here, and even then, such a thing was questionable with how neat the apartment was kept.

Honestly, it was a bit scary at how easy it would be to disprove his presence, to make it seem like he had never been here in the first place.

The door shut the moment he was far enough into his apartment, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

And the alien presence in his mind, of course.

He strode over towards his bed and flopped onto it, letting out a groan as his face sank into the covers. God he was just… so done with everything. With Alterra, with his family, with the crap he was going through and the media _still_ glorifying the torture he had been through. So many focused on his survival, on the cure he had discovered, on his so-called _illness_ , they had all forgotten about him.

Ryley Robinson, the victim of unfortunate circumstances. The traumatized man who continued to suffer through nightmares about that endless ocean. No one recognized that if he would go back and do everything all over again-

He never would have set foot on the Aurora, period.

Was it selfish to consider such a thing? Of course, it was! Surely his pain was a worthy enough sacrifice for such a discovery, both of the planet and the cure for the Kharaa bacterium.

But it was _his_ sacrifice, he was the one who had been forced to deal with the backlash of such a discovery.

**Martyr is a fascinating word in your vocabulary and seems to fit your traumatized state quite well.**

“Can’t you just shut up already.” He hissed, pressing his face deeper into the scratchy blankets. “I’ve got enough to deal with, so I don’t need your condescending commentary.”

**Knowledge does not equate condescension.**

“Well if you’re so _knowledgeable_ then what would you do in this situation, huh?! How would you free yourself from this prison, and how would you fix _this?”_ Ryley barked as he sat up and slammed a hand against the side of his head.

**As previously stated, you were the one who activated the terminal I was connected to, and the sanctuary was malfunctioning. I was not supposed to be conscious.**

“That doesn’t matter anymore! You messed up, I messed up, whatever. The only important thing now is figuring out how we fix this. I want my _brain_ back!”

The voice was silent as it processed Ryley’s words, and the human to the chance to get out of bed and quickly make his way over to his bathroom. From there, he let the shower run as he braced his hands against the rim of the sink and looked at his reflection in the mirror. 

God… he looked like _shit._

He had managed to gain some weight back, but his face still looked a bit gaunt and hollow. His eyes were dull, and his hair was wildly messy and far longer than it had previously been, no longer slicked up with gel. His lips were chapped, too, partly due to his habit of biting at them when he was anxious.

**You appear to need hydration, Ryley Robinson.**

How strange, this alien expressing concern towards his state of health. Even if it was just because the two were forced to share a body, it had done so much more than his family had. Reminding him to eat and drink water, providing a sort of company to engage with, even if he tended to hate said company, and his nightmares…

Horrible, terror inducing things. The ocean closing in on him, the Warpers and their broken words still searching for him, the cysts bursting through his skin over and over again-

The alien _stopped_ them, provided a sort of white noise that drowned out the horrible images and sounds, leaving him floating in darkness.

Also, terrifying but nowhere near as bad as the horrible scenarios his mind would conjure.

Their relationship, if you could even call it that, was certainly a complicated one, but perhaps it would work out in the end. If they managed to get on the same page and figure out how to help each other, that is.

“Just call me Ryley.” He rasped as he cupped his hand under the running shower and sipped it. Eugh, it was lukewarm, but he ignored that and focused on why he had retreated to his bathroom in the first place.

To talk.

“Alright, you’re an Architect, right? Or whatever Alterra decided to call you guys.” He began, taking note of how silent the voice suddenly was. “C’mon, work with me so we can sort something out.”

**There are dangers to sharing such information with you. Accordingly, I will only discuss what I deem necessary.**

“I’ll take that as a _yes_ then.” He deciphered before continuing. “Okay, introductions. You already know I’m Ryley since you’ve been kicking around up there for months at this point, and I can’t keep calling you _random voice_ or _pain in my ass_ , so what _can_ I call you?”

**The designation by which you may choose to address me as can be translated to J4-Y.**

“… Jay, your name is _Jay?”_

**It is the designation I have chosen. You have simply translated it to your native language for better comprehension.**

“I can’t believe I’m being tormented by an alien named _Jay._ ” Ryley bemoaned, ignoring the interjections from the now named Architect. “Okay, okay, so, what’s our move then, Jay? What needs to happen so we can finally go our separate way?”

**You would need to utilize one of the facilities constructed for production-**

“Okay, that’s a problem since there’s _nothing_ like that here. Even then I’d be caught way before I could access such a thing, security and crap.”

**If you would listen to my explanation without interruption, you will understand what needs to be done to create a body for myself.**

“Okay, okay, I’m just-” His hands were twitching as he gripped the rim of the sink, adrenaline racing through him because _oh god he was talking to an ancient **alien-**_

**Age it a construct of relativity and try to slow your breathing… Ryley.**

Ryley laughed and ran a trembling hand through his hair. “Hey, you got it! And… I’ll try.”

His fear giving way to excitement and hope, the realization that he might not be forced to live like this for the rest of his life, that there was a way out of one aspect of his hell. He did take a second to inhale and exhale as slow as possible in order to calm his racing heart as J4-Y continued speaking.

**There is a site located on what you refer to as 4546B where a new vessel that my mind can be transferred to can be manufactured using previously existing cells.**

“Hold up, you think something like that would still be working? Some of the sites I explored were pretty wrecked.”

**A site of that calibre surviving has a high probability due to its construction and the location in which it resides. It is in an area that you are unfamiliar with and as such you will need to be very careful when searching for the entrance of the facility, and any other resources that might be required.**

“How the hell would that work?” Ryley questioned aloud, careful to keep his voice low in case _anything_ picked up on it. “Getting out of here and going back, never mind all the other stuff.”

**We will need to plan and prepare. Lowering their suspicions would be beneficial.**

Despite how calm J4-Y’s voice sounded, Ryley was internally panicking. “Suspicions? You mean acting _nice_ to them and taking my meds?”

**Yes and no. You suffered extreme negative effects when first consuming those “meds” and it was difficult to flush them from your mind and prevent them from affecting me. Such a thing would be dangerous. A far more plausible auction would be to slowly provide them with false information that could cause them to believe you are “improving” in your condition. It would also aid in shifting their focus from you to planet 4546B and stripping it of its resources. I will be cautious to keep my presence hidden during these moments.**

“Lie, you want me to _lie_ to Alterra so we have a chance to get out, and then make up some story so they go on a wild goose chase. Easier said than done…”

**Do not give up hope so easily. Think of how much better your life would be without my presence stored in your mind.**

“… Let’s get this plan going _asap!”_

**Author's Note:**

> All Ryley wants is some peace and quiet, and a nap. Ain’t nothing going to stop him from achieving his dreams!
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed reading!
> 
> \- ImmortalCoelacanth


End file.
